Icy Calculations
by Night Swept
Summary: Post cocktails reflections from an unusual source.


Icy Calculation

Roy never knew how lucky he was that night. Soon after he began throwing his shotglass into the mirror and trashing all the bar furniture within reach, a pair of burly bouncers raced over-- one grabbing Kenny and the other bear hugging him from behind and wresting him to the ground. Roy was fuming mad, and he still planned on taking the Jet-Ski money right out of Jim Halpert's pretty face, but in retrospect he was very glad that he hadn't chased after Pam and done something he really regretted. One arrest this year was enough. He also would have probably had to barrel over the fat bald guy too on his way out-- the one making a ridiculous display of chivalry, standing there with his fists clenched watching him and Kenny trash the bar. That would have probably been another lawsuit... just what he didn't need right about now, and God forbid he hurt Pam when he caught up with her. Roy could not have lived with himself if he had hit a defenseless woman. Certainly not his Pam, although she wasn't his anymore. What scared him was that that night, he knew he may have had the bouncer not intervened. 

What Roy didn't know was that had he made a move to the door, he would not have made it even halfway there. Kevin could not have stopped him-- he was too old, too slow, packed too much fat and not enough muscle. Roy would have shoved him aside and run him over like roadkill. But Kevin knew this. That was the problem. People often mistook the sluggishness that permeated Kevin's every action for simple minded stupidity. Kevin didn't ever do anything to refute this. He just didn't care. In fact, he just didn't care much about anything. That is why he was a little surprised to find himself squaring his body to these two irate drunkards. His cancer scare last year was the last time he felt much of anything in the way of real emotion, and he was actually genuinely grateful Pam's genuine concern that day. He just didn't realize how grateful until now. 

What nobody knew except him was that Kevin had sized up the situation with a mechanical coldness that few knew he was capable of. His office mates knew that he had won a World Series of Poker championship bracelet, but most of them sucked horribly at Poker. Some of them could play... Jim, Ryan, Karen... but they sucked too. None knew the game well enough to know that the event he won - deuce to seven lowball - was in a different league from the No-Limit Holdem luckfest TV-infested crap that passes for Poker these days. It took skill to win at deuce to seven. It was a game of gambits and subtleties, perception, pretenses, and most of all balls. Roy could have crushed him, but Kevin knew that Roy's anger would have him focused on the door and defenseless Pam, and Roy's anger would cause him to make a mistake. He would not square his body to Kevin, rather attempt to push him away as he barreled for the door, trying to lose as little time dealing with the fat guy as possible. Kevin could not last long if Roy had decided to focus on him... so he would act first, act fast and act violently. Just as Roy would have begun to push past him, he would have become instantly disoriented and incapacitated by pain. Few people can shake off a properly delivered rabbit-punch -- a short, straight shot to the larynx that is illegal even in Ultimate Fighting matches. Kevin would not have missed -- the amazing hand eye coordination of this hate-ball champion who rarely missed a freethrow would have seen his little pre-emptive strike land true, and Roy would have been lucky to stay out of the Hospital, much less jail.

Kevin just did not care about most things. He had sensed that Oscar was a homosexual long before Michael blew it up. He just didn't care enough to ask Oscar. So what if he was gay -- live and let live. He knew that Stanley was the one guy in the office who always meant what he said. He knew something was up with Dwight and Angela. He was by no means interested in his officemates personal issues, least of all Angela's, but sometimes information came to him and he could not help processing it. He had only to accidentally catch one of Angela's furtive glances over Dwightward to know everything. Angela had sensed his gaze lazily drifting her way and had reverted her gaze back to her monitor in a subtle but immediate motion. Angela had never played poker, but she would suck at it. Kevin had long ago figured out that the least truthful expresser of human thought was the mouth, and had long since given people's words the least precedence when he cared enough to make judgements, which was rarely. He would have been a great salesman if he could motivate himself, which he couldn't.

Kevin liked Jim -- he enjoyed mopping the floor with him at Fantasy Football year in and year out, and he knew Jim genuinely and warmly liked him. He had meant what he said last year when he told Jim he had his back should a fight with Roy break out. Jim thought he was quite the poker player -- routinely taking money off his dumb friends in their monthly booze-fueled poker nights, but actually he sucked. He could not hide anything... Pam, for example... he may as well have tattooed a profession of his continued love for Pam on his forehead. Always sneaking glances over her way when he thought the dark one wasn't looking. Who did he think he was fooling? The dark one maybe. Kevin no. And he wasn't even looking for this stuff -- he just didn't care. If the furtive glances weren't obvious enough, Jim had recently he had been avoiding looking at her altogether. Yup... Play me Jim... I'll have all your chips before you finish your first beer... Hell, well you're at it, bring your two ladyfriends too. Pam was a little more subtle than Jim but lacked the guts to do anything bold. Kevin would use her timidity to paralyze her -- stealing pot after pot while Pam waited and waited to pick a moment to stand up to him. And waited.. and waited some more. Karen would be easy to dispatch too. Kevin genuinely liked Karen. She had shown interest in the one thing he was truly passionate about: Scrantonicity, even getting up on stage and singing one song at Phyllis' wedding. He had thoroughly enjoyed that -- the image of her bottom sliding back and forth in her tight dress was now burned into his brain. She would not last long either, though... her own false self confidence would blind her and Kevin would use her own aggression to remove her chips from her busy little hands. 

Kevin liked Jim -- he could feel his anguish-- even though he didn't care to know the things he knew, he knew them nonetheless. He really didn't care to butt into anyone's personal drama, but maybe next time they go to lunch together, just the two of them, Kevin would set Jim straight. Jim was blinded by uncertainty, but he could be stirred to action with a bit of a friendly asskicking. It would be better for Karen too-- she had no idea that she was going to have a house dropped on her fragile psyche eventually, and it may as well be now. Kevin was finding it hard to catch glimpses of her false hopes anyways. It wasn't his style, but he would make an exception for Jim just this once. Kevin and Jim used to go out for lunch once in a while, but ever since Jim came back from Stamford, Karen was seldom far from his side during lunchtime, and the two times Jim had invited Kevin along Karen was always there. Oh well -- it could wait -- Kevin just didn't care enough to force the issue.


End file.
